I jimmied the blade of my military knife into the seam beside the safe a few times, only to find the door wouldn't budge in the slightest.

In fact, the tip of my imported Swiss Army knife had actually bent a little, forcing me to abandon the effort.

I knew both Nobita and Nie Chuan too well; neither of them could pick a lock, so the three of us were stumped.

Finally, Nobita blurted out, "Let's just blow it open with explosives!"

I retorted, "Explosives? Where are the explosives? Hand them over."

Nobita was momentarily speechless, then said, "Let's search around. Maybe there's some dynamite in one of these rooms."

I shook my head. "Don't waste your time. That's like searching for a needle in a haystack. How could you possibly find any?"

"Then what do we do? We've come this far; are we just going to give up?" Nobita grumbled.

I assured him, "Of course not. We definitely have other options."

Just then, Nie Chuan said, "Look, the numbers on the built-in dial."

I looked over and saw the dial, resembling the channel selector on an old television set. The numbers were resting on the Arabic numeral 1, which made me frown, though I couldn't help but admire Nie Chuan's observation skills.

I knew that on these older safes, once the combination was set and the key was withdrawn, the dial would automatically return to zero.

Furthermore, if someone tried to open the safe but dialed the wrong number, it would also snap back to zero.

So, the fact that the number was currently on 1 meant someone had turned the dial, and they had gotten all the preceding numbers right for it to stop there.

Nie Chuan and I both caught this simultaneously. He then asked me, "How many numbers do you think are left?"

I considered it for a moment, then glanced at the drawing marked with a '0' lying on the floor, saying nothing.

Nie Chuan had clearly followed my train of thought. After exchanging a look to gauge my opinion, he gently turned the dial toward 0.

The instant the dial pointed exactly to 0, we heard a distinct click, and the safe door sprang open outward.

Seeing the safe ajar, we were all thrilled and quickly pulled the door wide.

Shining the glow stick inside the compartment, I immediately spotted an ancient scroll painting and an old book resting within.

We took the two items out, dusting them off. I noticed the characters on the book were written in Chinese: Guan Xiang Jing (Contemplation Sutra).

Flipping through the pages, I discovered the entire book was filled with handwritten Chinese script. It was richly illustrated, detailing a method of physical and spiritual cultivation, something akin to Chinese Qigong.

Next, we examined the painting. To our surprise, when I untied the string holding it and unfurled the scroll, Nobita let out a sharp cry and stumbled back several paces.

Nie Chuan snapped at him, "What the hell are you freaking out about now?"

Nobita pointed a trembling finger at the scene depicted in the artwork. "I saw it! I've seen what's happening in this painting before."

I looked down at the picture. It showed countless dismembered people lying in pools of blood, piled up like a mountain of corpses. Atop this gore-soaked summit stood the broad back of a massively built man.

Even though the painting wasn't in color, I could tell the man's skin was incredibly dark, his muscles powerfully defined, and he sported a single, long, sharp horn on his head, along with a tail like that of an ox sprouting from his backside.

The man held a twisted, deformed steel trident, its prongs smeared with crimson.

I looked closely at the bodies scattered below and felt a strange curiosity.

The clothing on these figures was wildly varied: heavy armor from Western knights, the caps and helmets of ancient Chinese officials, long katana swords wielded by Japanese samurai, alongside longswords carried by European knights. I even spotted handguns and baseball bats—a bizarre mix spanning across different eras and continents.

Even stranger was the sky in the painting: there were over a dozen black suns, large and small, and several disc-shaped objects darting between them.

"What is this..." I asked Nie Chuan with a questioning look.

Nie Chuan merely shook his head, took the scroll from my hands, carefully re-rolled it, and then turned his attention to Nobita.

"You said you've seen this scene before. Was it when you were wearing that strange mask and weren't in control?" Nie Chuan inquired.

Nobita had retreated to a wooden stool and was incessantly wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

After a moment, he managed to say, "I don't know. My consciousness was too foggy then. But I just felt like I'd seen this painting before, and I... I was in it. There was blood everywhere, human corpses, and... and lots of strange creatures slaughtering people. The sheer terror of that scene..."

For Nobita to be so terrified, one could only imagine the hellish reality depicted.

"I'm going out for a smoke. Don't make me think about that again; it's too horrifying..." Nobita muttered under his breath as he walked toward the door on his own.

We didn't stop him; we didn't want to add to his distress.

We then spread the scroll out again, trying to glean any clue—perhaps identifying historically significant figures among the corpses or recognizable architecture nearby—to determine where and under what circumstances this event occurred.

But after searching for a long time, we found no useful information.

Thinking about it, the whole scene was quite absurd. When in the world do over a dozen suns exist simultaneously? Especially black ones.

Perhaps this illustration only depicted a nightmare, or something existing in some ethereal, phantom realm?

We stared at it for ages without any breakthrough, finally deciding to roll the scroll back up.

Nie Chuan sighed, saying, "A book with no writing, a painting we can't decipher—what a complete waste of time."

"A book with no writing?" Hearing that, I immediately retrieved the book and looked again, realizing it was completely covered in text.

Seeing my strange expression, Nie Chuan asked, "What's wrong?"

I replied, "This book is clearly full of characters. How can you say it has no writing?"

"Stop joking. Where are the characters? Read some of it aloud to me..." Nie Chuan asked, confused.

I paused to think, then said, "There's no need to read it. I understand now. These characters are all a form of Nian (Thought/Spiritual Resonance). Only I, who can see Nian, can see them. You can't."

Nie Chuan frowned slightly, taking the book to look again, before sighing. "Alright then, you keep the book. Maybe there's something useful in there. If you discover anything, you absolutely must tell me."

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we’re in this together."

Nie Chuan managed a small smile, stood up, brushed the dust off his clothes, and said, "Let's go. We've investigated this area enough. We should go ask Nobita about the specifics of what he saw."

I nodded, and we walked out of the room together.

As soon as we stepped out, we saw Nobita leaning against the doorway, brooding over a cigarette.

Seeing us emerge, he said, "Don't ask me about it. What I saw is truly beyond words. But if we ever encounter anyone or anything related to it again, I might be able to tell you then."

Nie Chuan and I exchanged a look and said nothing further.

Afterward, the three of us investigated the remaining rooms, but still found no clues regarding Xie Yuting.

However, we did locate the room where Old Second had met his fate. It was a large space, resembling a conference room, cluttered with irregularly placed chairs and tea sets strewn across the tables. A dozen potted plants had withered entirely.

In this conference room, we discovered extensive signs of a fierce struggle. Bloodstains covered the walls, yet we found no bodies, nor any personal belongings belonging to anyone other than Old Second.

One side of this conference room led to the staircase going up to the third floor.

We entered the stairwell and illuminated the path ahead with our cold flame torches. The stairs were barricaded by various broken cabinets and chairs, completely blocking the ascent.

Clearing all that debris would take a considerable amount of time.

But then, we noticed a rope dangling down from the railing of the floor above us.

The rope was heavily stained with blood, likely left by Xie Yuting and the others as they fled upwards.

Climbing the rope, we soon reached the third-floor attic.

This attic level was much darker than we expected—virtually pitch black.

Shining the cold flame torch around, we realized this attic space was rather peculiar.

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